


Silver and Gold

by Anonymous



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (sorta?), Bittersweet, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For Supply Drop 2017 prompt #245: "Solid and Otacon spending Christmas together. It can go from bittersweet oldSnake's last Christmas to any other regular (but special) Christmas day."(Decided to go the more bittersweet route because I'm a masochist)





	Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yamaneko19xx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamaneko19xx/gifts).



> hope you like this! i considered doing something a little less bittersweet but i couldn't resist the sad i'm so sorry

Snow falls heavy in Alaska, and doesn’t stop. It’s still snowing when Dave wakes up, glass coated in frost and white flakes piling on the windowsill. It’s hard to tell what time it is when the sun only peaks above the horizon for a few precious hours this time of year, only an inkling of silvery-warm light spilling through the window and onto the bedspread, but he figures it’s early. These quiet moments are so much easier to come by now; Dave doesn’t move quite yet, just lets his eyes fall shut again, reaching vaguely toward Hal’s warmth at his side. He’s exactly where he should be, bundled up in a sweater under their comforter, face half-covered with dark hair. A sliver of pale skin peaks out above the collar of Hal’s sweater and Dave thinks of kissing him for a moment, of wrapping him up in his arms and spending a few more of these hard-earned moments pressed against him, but it’s probably too early to wake Hal yet.

Instead, Dave forces his aching body out of bed. His body protests most anything he does these days, joints creaking and cracking even as he defies them. The cold seeps into the bones of their little cabin, makes the floorboards like ice under Dave’s bare feet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and makes his way out of the bedroom, a slow, laborious trip, and pauses to squint from the hallway. The clock above the stove reads 6:30 in glowing green numbers, and after a moment of consideration he carefully picks his way across the room. It’s early, sure, but not too early to make breakfast.

It takes a bit more time and effort than it used to, but Dave manages to get breakfast started pretty easily; the bacon is already sizzling in the skillet as he stirs the waffle batter. He gives a little grunt as he bends down to root through the cabinet until he finds the waffle iron with only a little difficulty, his stiff back protesting the movement. The tedium of the morning is welcome; it reminds him of mornings on _Nomad_ , before things went south, trying to juggle meals in their tiny kitchenette.

He’s halfway done by the time Sunny wanders down the hall, their husky on her heel. “It’s early.” Dave remarks, pouring water into the coffee pot. Sunny plops down at the kitchen table, fuzzy pants, oversized hoodie stolen from Hal and all.

She looks up to beam at him. She’s been smiling like that a lot more lately. “Of course,” Sunny says matter-of-fact, “it’s Christmas!”

Dave runs one hand back through sleep-mussed hair, nearly as white as the snow falling outside the kitchen window, and finishes scooping coffee grounds into the pot. “Sure is.” He turns back to the stove and busies himself with finishing breakfast. He almost starts cooking eggs, but thinks better of it for Hal’s sake – the poor man is so tired of them that he wouldn’t dare make him eat another.

They lapse into comfortable quiet, Sunny humming a bright, cheery holiday tune as she plays something on her Gameboy. The dog nuzzles Dave’s knee until he pauses to run crooked fingers through her thick fur for a moment. He’s still not quite used to how slow things are now, the long, lazy days in stark contrast to the way things used to be. It would make him restless, maybe, if he were the man he was before, but now he’s content to accept it. They don’t question the good things much anymore.

Dave clicks off the stove, piling two plates with waffles and bacon and sliding them onto their little kitchen table. “Thanks, Dave!” She’s still humming her off-key Christmas songs between bites as she digs into her share, Dave sitting down with his own food and his chipped coffee mug. There’s a small tree set up in the living room, decorated with bits and pieces collected over the years; ornaments bought from truck stops when Philanthropy was still new, snowflakes Sunny lovingly cut out of colorful paper, a string of lights tucked between the branches. It isn’t all that luxurious, but its theirs, simple and warm and bright, contrast to the tension and chaos that invaded every part of their lives before.

Hal eventually makes his bleary-eyed way down the hall, glasses set just a bit askew on his nose. “Merry Christmas,” he calls with a sleepy grin, dropping himself into a chair at the table and leaning over to press a lazy kiss to Dave’s temple.

Sunny beams, jumping up to fix Hal a plate. “Merry Christmas!” She fills a mug with coffee, stirring in copious amounts of milk and sugar before sliding it across the table to Hal.

“Thanks, Sunny.” Hal says with a yawn, wrapping both hands around the warm mug and sipping at it slowly.

It’s odd: the thought that this is Dave’s last Christmas isn’t all that distressing. Dave doesn’t dwell much on it these days, but the end isn’t all that far off now, hiding in his stiff joints and labored breaths. His body doesn’t quite agree with being alive anymore, but as always, he pushes it past its limits; it’s a miracle he’s survived this long. Maybe that’s why the realization that this is the last time doesn’t hurt as badly as it could – he’s lucky to be here at all. Hal leaves the hand not occupied by his coffee laying palm-up on the tabletop and Dave reaches out to cover it with his own, an unspoken, easy ritual. Hal smiles blearily at him, that bittersweet smile that Dave’s gotten more and more used to.

This is harder for Hal than it is for him, Dave knows. Watching it eat away at him like this breaks his heart.

They finish breakfast a little quicker than usual, Sunny stealing glances at the tree through the doorway as she wolfs down the remainder of her plate. Hal makes a truly valiant effort, finishing at least half of it before pushing his plate away; he’s never been able to eat much this early anyway. “Can we open presents now?” Sunny asks the moment he’s done, more bright-eyed and excited than she’s been in a long while. Dave sees the corners of Hal’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at her, the lines on his face just a little deeper than before. Age chases them all down eventually, he supposes.

Hal laughs, voice still heavy with sleep. “Someone’s eager,” he hums, already standing up from the table, offering Dave his hand to pull him shakily to his feet. Hal stays at his side as he makes his way to the couch; his hovering is almost welcome now, comforting even if it is a bit overbearing. They lace their fingers together easily, naturally, as Sunny rushes ahead with the dog on her heels to sit in front of the tree.

Dave hobbles toward the fireplace to light it, flames sparking to life and pushing back the Alaskan cold that the rickety old heater can’t fight on its own, a warm glow spread across the wooden floor. Hal is already tucked between pillows, blanket pulled up around his shoulders as David settles in at his side. It’s a small Christmas, only a handful of presents beneath the tree, wrapped haphazardly in colorful paper, but Sunny seems enthused regardless, already sorting them into neat piles for each of them, including Denali, whose tail is wagging vigorously as she sniffs the messily wrapped toy in front of her. Outside, the sun is slowly creeping above the horizon, light filtering through the curtains as it reflects off the snow. “Here,” Sunny announces, pushing one of the piles toward Hal, “these are yours.” She shoves another pile in Dave’s direction, smiling up at him in that same way Hal does when he’s excited. “And these are yours!”

Sunny tears into hers first, of course, seeing as she has the most to get through. It’s nice, seeing her so happy after all the chaos and tension, laughing and smiling the way she did before everything went to hell. Dave wonders if he’ll miss it, wherever he’s going; if he’ll miss the way Sunny laughs, the way Hal watches her so fondly; if he’ll miss the quiet days like this one, sleeping in in the mornings and waking up to Sunny cooking breakfast. He wonders how many more of those days he’ll have. He doesn’t exactly believe in an afterlife, but it’s a comforting thought from time to time, imagining he won’t just fade out of existence when his heart finally stops beating. It would be nice, maybe, to live on in some way.

Hal reaches over, finding Dave’s hand with his own and winding their fingers together, tucking himself under Dave’s arm and sighing, content. Sunny turns around to beam at them, small box in hand. “Oh, what’s that?” Dave leans forward to squint at it. “Another game for your… uh, game… thing?”

Sunny and Hal both laugh as Dave grumbles. “It’s a Gameboy,” Sunny corrects, matter-of-fact, and turns back to her dwindling mountain of gifts.

Dave supposes he’ll live on in the two of them regardless.

It doesn’t take long to get through most of the gifts, the pile of wrapping paper growing larger by the minute until they’re left with a single box, small enough to nearly get lost in the flurry until Dave bends to pick it up. “Here,” his voice is soft, rolling like gravel, “I think this is yours.” It’s a little thing, wrapped in gold paper with Hal’s name scrawled on the top in Dave’s efficient hand.

Hal looks at him quizzically before taking the neatly wrapped package from his hands. “What is it?”

  
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to find that out when you open it.” Dave grins. He rubs slow circles into Hal’s thigh with his thumb, an idle habit borne of so many years.

“Thanks, smartass.” Hal scowls at him playfully as he tears into the paper. He pauses when he finds the wooden box inside, looking up at Dave with his eyebrows knit. Sunny is watching them in her careful, quiet way, running her fingers through Denali’s fur as she does. “What is this, Dave?” Hal asks, voice just on the edge of trembling as he opens it. His breath catches in his throat at the sight, covering his mouth with one hand. Dave smiles.

“Thought you might want something to remember me by,” Dave murmurs. The band gleams from its place nestled in silk, a simple ring of gold and silver, nothing too flashy or expensive. Hal bites back a sob and for a moment Dave wonders if he made the wrong choice before Hal turns to bury his face in Dave’s shoulder, throwing his arms around him.

“I don’t need anything to remember you,” Hal says softly, voice muffled by the fabric of Dave’s shirt and watery with tears threatening to fall. He pulls back to look at the ring again, running one finger along the subtle gold ridges before flicking his eyes back to Dave’s face. There isn’t much left for them to say, now – they’ve said it all a million times, all the thank yous and I love yous and I’m sorrys, so Hal just looks at him for a moment, face lined with exhausted gratitude.

Dave brings one hand up to cup Hal’s cheek, wiping at an errant tear with his thumb. “Can I?” Hal gives a little puff of a laugh and nods, offering Dave the little cherry wood box wordlessly. Dave slides the ring from its box and turns it over in his fingers for a moment, testing its weight before he takes Hal’s hand – his left hand – and slips the band onto his ring finger. Dave never realized it would feel so _right_ to see it there, snug just below his knuckle, catching the firelight just right and almost glowing against Hal’s skin.

Hal exhales shakily, examining his hand, turning it this way and that to watch it gleam. His expression is warm, even with the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “Thank you,” Hal finally says after a quiet moment. “I— it’s— it’s good.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Dave has learned to say that more these days, to tell Hal whenever he can – to make up for the time he hasn’t lost yet. Hal just smiles at him, bleary eyed and sniffling. Dave leans in and kisses him earnestly, slow and lazy like he did in the days when they had all the time in the world, and Hal sighs into it, melts into him so easily, until the whole world is the two of them for just an instant.

“Can we g-go out in the snow?” Sunny’s voice brings them back down to earth. She’s looking up at them with her big eyes, glancing expectantly at the frosted window.

“Why not?” Dave laughs, joints creaking as he bends to ruffle her hair. “It’s Christmas.”

Sunny bolts off to find her jacket and Hal all but deflates into Dave’s chest, laughing in that nervous way he does when he’s trying not to cry. Dave just gathers him into his arms and lets him sniffle against his shoulder for a long, warm moment. “Should we get you a ring, too?” Hal finally asks when he’s found the strength to pull back enough to look at him.

“If you want.”

“Would that… would you want that?”

Dave considers his answer for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

Hal just nods, wiping at his eyes under his glasses before he kisses Dave soundly. They stay like that for a long while, wrapped up in the blankets and the warmth of the fire and each other while Sunny hums Christmas tunes in the other room.

For now, it’s more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://merildis.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/raaidens) btw if ur interested!


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